Stupid
by Death of a Dark Angel
Summary: "Sometimes I felt so stupid. I felt that I was nothing but a silly girl with expectations that couldn't possibly come true." It's well known that Molly Hopper loves Sherlock. The real question is this: Is she just another silly girl he'll never look twice at, or can it be possible that he actually does return her feelings?


**Author's Note: First Sherlock piece ever, yay! I am a huge Sherlolly fan. This is also my first try at a Romantic and (mostly) non-angsty piece. I know the ending might be cheesy, but it's a romance piece, deal with it. Enjoy. R & R. No flames welcome. **

Sometimes I felt so stupid. I felt that I was nothing but a silly girl with expectations that couldn't possibly come true. He was so bloody cruel at times, his words piercing my heart sharper than any knife could. He would sweep into my life with his aggravatingly alluring eyes and incredibly accurate deductions, though they were often scathing or just plain rude ones, and stalk off when he got what he desired. He would at times give me empty compliments, ( _"You're wearing your hair differently today Molly, it looks quite fetching on you_ ") and like the silly girl I am, I would give him whatever he wanted, thinking that this time it would be different, that he would finally notice how much I did for him and realize how much he needed and loved me. _("Love is nothing but chemical defect"_ )

Still, I can't bring myself to completely hate him. Even when he was being an arse. Yes, there were times I hated him a little, who wouldn't after the crap he's said and done? But, in the end, I always forgave him. It's simply who I am, just like being a prat sometimes _(okay, most of the time_ ) is simply part of who he is. My friends and colleagues have told me many a time to stop putting up with him, to give him up. Mike, Greg, Mary, even John, they all agree. I at times think so too. It would be so much easier on me mentally and emotionally if I just rid myself of his toxic influence once and for all. But…..I don't _want_ to. Maybe I'm a masochist. Or maybe it's just that wishfully thinking I seem to be partial too…but it feels like he might feel the same way.

After the fall, when he came back, he was a changed man. He was still a prat, but he now made an effort to be mindful of other people's feelings before he spoke. He now actually said _please_ and _thank you_ , instead of demanding body parts for his latest experiment form me. He even brought me coffee once, just because I was having a bad day. I could almost call him a friend now instead of an acquaintance. I enjoyed this new Sherlock, but felt cautious because of the feelings I thought were long gone and buried that now flared every time he did something considerate. Something that some would call caring. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised Tom and I didn't work out.

It wasn't just his new found thoughtfulness that made me think this. It was the way he looked at me, when we were alone. His cobalt blue eyes would soften slightly, the ice they usually held in their depths would chip away, making them resemble the ocean. Or how close he would stand next to me if other weren't looking, though I don't think they'd notice regardless. After all, Sherlock was well known for his lack of personal boundaries, so why would it matter if he was standing close to me? Little Miss Molly Hooper, the one with a hopeless crush on him. But it _did_ matter. It mattered because this closeness now held an air of intimacy it never had before. Other times, it was the way we spoke to one another late at night, when everyone else had left.

He spoke to me like I was an equal. His equal. We could speak on the same level of intelligence and conversed about many topics that before the fall I never would have dreamed to speak of. There was once that when we had paused our discussion, I had been staring up into his face smiling, and I swear he leaned in. But a second later he shook himself, as if in a daze, and the conversation resumed. We never spoke of it.

Now though, I don't feel stupid anymore. Because I know. I know that he returns my feelings. I know that all my time and effort poured into wasn't in vain. How do I know? Because at this moment, I'm wrapped in his arms, fingers tangled in his dark curls, with him kissing me deeply after an long awaited, " _Molly Hooper, I'm madly in love with you_. "


End file.
